The Reason I Don't Care
by Meredith Lavern
Summary: Sherlock struggles to hide a secret from John regarding why he can't have feelings for people. Mycroft shares devastating news that threatens knock Sherlock's world apart. What is the big secret and what did Mycroft say? Will Sherlock make another secret? Enjoy and please write reviews. Thank you.
1. Alice Scott

The Reason I Don't Care

Chapter 1

I walked into the kitchen of 221B. It was two and the sun was shining bright through the south windows. Mycroft of course was sitting at the table. He had something on his mind, obviously. He had called me two hours before this and told me he was coming over to discuss a matter of great importance. I headed to the counter behind Mycroft and started to make some tea. 

"Hello Sherlock", Mycroft said without looking at me. As usual he had the constipated, yet professional look on his face. 

"Brother Dear", I said glancing at the back of his head. 

"How is John Watson?" He asked. 

"John is good. He is in Brussels with Mary for the week I believe they are at The Royal Museum of the Army and Military History or just leaving to go to The Musée Bruxellois de la Gueuze for a nice bottle of wine", I said as I filled the kettle with water. 

"Of course, little brother. But you, out of all people, don't need that. Oh and has John figured out about your little problem yet? Hmm?" Mycroft said. Mycroft read my brief pause, "So he doesn't know" he smirked. 

"Oh brother dear, how nice of you to come over to catch up on things that you really don't care about", I said mockingly as I started to pour the hot water into a teapot, "What did you come here for anyways?" 

"You like that teapot very much. Mother's old one?", he said. 

"Of course", I said. 

"What a shame it would be if it was broken", he said half smirking, "why don't you put it down brother of mine". 

"I think I like it where it is, thank you very much", I said 

"I warned you", he replied. 

I stayed quiet hoping that he had brought me a very big, very complicated case. 

"Sherlock, I have met someone", He said calmly. 

"Who have you met this time Mycroft old boy? An old acquaintance? A new trainer? Who?" I asked excitedly. 

"A woman", he said and turned around he had a slight smile on his face then he said, "Oops". 

Then I realized that my Mother's old teapot was in pieces around my feet. 

"Umm, what?", I said, "I think my ears have betrayed me. I could have sworn you just said that you have met a woman". 

"Oh but Sherlock I have. A most wonderful woman! Her name is Alice". 

"What? What do you mean you have met a woman?", I asked getting concerned. 

"I mean to say that I am in a relationship with a beautiful woman named Alice Scott", he simply said. 

"You WHAT?! Beautiful woman? Mycroft do you have any idea what you are doing? Mycroft are you serious?" I shouted in disbelief. 

Mycroft turned around and looked at Sherlock. "We met six months ago, strangely, right after we played the object owner game with the camera man's hat, the one from the terrorist attack on the tube, and claimed that I was lonely. As soon as I walked out the door to your flat I ran into her. Literally ran into her. She and I toppled to the ground. I ripped the knee of my suit. She, on the other hand, was thrown into Baker Street. A cabby was honking at her even though she was clearly disoriented. She had a small cut on the side of her forehead. It was bleeding badly. So naturally I took her to the hospital and put the charges for her medical care on my tab, after all I ran into her. They stitched her up and then after they evaluated her they released her to me. She introduced herself as Alice Scott and apologized for falling over me. She asked if she could repay me for the trouble she had caused me and she also said she wanted to thank me for paying her medical bill. She asked if she could take me to dinner. I agreed and she had Anthea drive us to L'Autre Pied, as you very well know it is my favorite restaurant. We then proceeded to have a lovely dinner and kept interesting conversations and at the end she asked me if she could see me again. Of course I told myself I was going to say no but then my mouth formed the words, 'I would like that very much indeed'. She quickly took down my number and she gave me hers. Then I had Anthea drive her home. I took a cabby home. Can you imagine me in a cabby! Later when I reached home I realized it and didn't know how to react so I took a scalding shower and drenched myself in disinfectant. Then next day I was distracted all day. I couldn't seem to focus. My mind kept wandering to her. I tried to push her out of my thoughts but with in a few minutes she back. I continued on like that for two weeks. Finally I couldn't take it. I had to call her. I dialed her number. I pressed each number. Dreading that she wouldn't answer or that she had forgotten me. 

Ring. 

Ring. 

Ring. 

Ring. 

Ring. 

I started to give up hope and was about to hang up when she answered. I said hello and to my surprise she remembered me still. I asked her if she would like to accompany me to the Galla later that week. She said she would like that very much. We had a great time. The next day I couldn't get her out of my head again. I called her in the middle of the day and then I asked if she would like to come to the Regency Ball with me she agreed. We went. We danced. We laughed. We enjoyed each other's company. Later that night I got a feeling when I looked at her smiling she was... beautiful... and I wanted her around me. She made me... happy. I danced with her again and led her out to the pavilion. We sat by the center fountain. We laughed so hard at the stories and jokes we told each other we we almost crying. After that everything got quiet. I was looking at the ground thinking how nice this was. Just me and Alice. I looked up she was looking up at the stars. She was beautiful. I got a feeling that I was about to do something crazy. She looked back down to earth. She smiled slightly. 'Thank you for everything Mycroft.' Then...", he looked at me, "Are you okay brother?" 

I realized that my firsts were white because I was gripping the back of a chair so hard. I released the chair and nodded. 

"I kissed her Sherlock. She was surprised and Frankly so was I. She smiled and kissed me again. I asked her to be my girl. She agreed happily. We spent the rest of the night talking, holding hands, and kissing. I have been seeing her ever since", he said then turned to look at me. He looked happier than I had seen him in a very long time. 

"So you are serious about this woman-", Mycroft cut me off. 

"Alice", he said. 

"Okay... Alice. So you are serious about Alice?", I asked 

"Yes. I am", he said without blinking. 

"How serious? Mycroft tell me how serious you are about her", I said. 

"I Love her Sherlock. I want her in every way imaginable, and I mean every single way, even unto marriage," he said. 

I sat down hard in my chair activating my mind palace. _What was he thinking? What was going on? Was Mycroft actually thinking of marrying this girl? How could he do this too me?_

When I finally came around it was dark out. Mycroft was sitting in John's spot. I noticed John and Mary were in the room. _What are they doing here? Their flight lands at one thirty tomorrow. They aren't suppose to get back until three tomorrow. Ah, Mycroft sent for them to obviously keep me in control. Why would they need to control me? Ah, again, I don't know everything. _John was slouched up against the wall. He had a tired worried expression on his face. He looked older and sadder. He seemed to be visually aging. Mary sat on the couch we mostly use for clients. She looked concerned. 

"What?", I asked, "What are you all staring at?" 

No one answered.


	2. A New Type of Drug

The Reason I Don't Care

Chapter 2

"Yes, I'm alive. Now can we all please get over it. It's been a six months since you found out John and Mary and you, brother mine, never thought I was dead", I said. 

"Sherlock-", John started, "Sherlock does this news of your brother in love... bother you?" 

"No, of course not. Why would it?", I asked impatiently. 

"So, you're not bothered by it? You're not upset?", he asked surprised. He raised an eyebrow. 

"Didn't I say that I that it didn't bother me?", I said in an annoyed tone, "So obviously it doesn't". 

I was being careful with the signs I was giving off. I could feel Mycroft's eyes dancing over me. I made it so that Mycroft would only be able to read signs that he was handling the news well, of course they were false signs. I chuckled. 

"Mycroft anything?", John said. 

Oh so now John was asking Mycroft to read me. Great. Just great. I rolled my eyes and stood up. I went over to the mantle and lifted my skull. I turned it upside down and reached for two nicotine patches. I made sure that no one in the room could see my hidden pack of cigarettes. I didn't smoke but there is sometimes that I just smoked a single cigarette because of something that had happened. Luckily I had hidden my other items that I didn't want anyone, especially John, to see. The things that Mycroft was talking about. He of course already knew. 

"Nothing John", Mycroft said with a smirk on his face. 

He knew what I was thinking. I put the patches on my right forearm. John picked up on what I was doing. I need to think. I picked up my coat and put it on. 

"Excuse me, but I have some unfinished business to attend to", I said as I walked past the trio. I had made it to the door when Mycroft said something. 

"It would seem old habits die hard", he said turning around in John's chair. Once again he had the constipated look on his face. 

"Good Evening Mycroft", I said not turning around and slowly shut the door. 

I walked down the stairs abd bumped into Mrs. Hudson, who was caring tea upstairs, and asked her to relay a message to John: 'I won't be home tonight'. She agreed and quickly brought the trio their tea. I on the other hand had something else other than tea on my mind. Alcohol. 

I had made john believe that when I needed to think I turned to drugs. It made more sense. A high functioning Sociopath turns to drugs to gain more knowledge or to think clearer. Different drugs have different effects on different people. It made sense from a medical point of view which is why I led John to believe that I was a druggie. 

Alcohol in a medical perspective is mostly a sedative. Something that John would never understand if I told him. He would never understand that I never had a choice.


	3. A Midnight Stroll To The Pub

The Reason I Don't Care

Chapter 3

I went down to Mrs. Hudson's flat. I had started to wonder where Sherlock was since it was already nine. I knocked on the door twice and she came out dressed in her chartreuse night gown and slippers. She looked at me with squinty eyes.

"Hello John. He's not coming back-", she yawned.

My heart skipped a beat.

"Oh no!", I yelled and started for the door.

_Please don't be dead again_, I thought to myself, _It had been about four hours since he had left. How far could he have gone? Could he have gone to St. Barts to commit suicide? And actually do it this time? Oh God, I was going to loose him again. But this time for reals._

"Tonight", she called to me.

Then yawned again and shut her door leaving me alone in the hall.

I felt like an idiot for getting scared that Sherlock wasn't going to come back and that he was dead. I mean he is bloody Sherlock.

I walked up the stairs and through the door to my room. It was late and I had work in the morning. I laid down on my bed, under my covers. I couldn't get comfortable. I had a nagging feeling in my head that I needed to go find Sherlock.

After thirty five and a half minutes I couldn't take it anymore. I got up and put on my coat and walked out the door. I had to go looking for Sherlock.

I walked Baker St. for three hours and decided to get a beer for the way home, after all I was about ten miles. I stopped by one of the pubs a few streets away. It was a nice place. Rather rectangular, long and narrow. There was a fireplace on the opposite wall from the bar. Three small tables took up the remaining space. However there still was enough room to comfortably slow dance if there was ever a need for it.

I looked at everyone in the pub. Two girls, sisters it looked like, sat at the first table talking quietly gossiping about their husbands. The younger obviously a newlywed and the older happily married. An old man sat at the counter and conversed with the bartender. He had gray streaks in his dark hair and a scraggly peppered beard. Then there was a person sitting alone by the fireplace, just peering in at the fire. A bottle of silver gin sat next to the personage. He obviously wasn't interested in talking since he had his back to the rest of the occupants of the pub.

I got to the counter and ordered two beers. One for now and one for the long walk home. It was one so I wouldn't get home until four and then I could sleep for two hours then get ready for work. Surprisingly I wasn't all that tired. I thanked the bartender, paid, and then walked home.

On the way home I thought to myself_, Sherlock would have liked that pub. Maybe I'll bring him there sometime. Even though I know he wouldn't touch alcohol if his life depended on it_.

When I got home I wasn't the least surprised to see that Sherlock still wasn't home. It took me longer to get home then expected, so instead of being able to sleep I got ready for work.

Work was boring as usual. No one came in with any bullet holes, stab wounds, or even burns.

When I got home Sherlock was home I could tell. A new pile of nicotine patch wrappers were laying on the ground by the mantle.

I checked his room and found that he was sprawled out on his bed. He had a pillow over his head and the curtains were closed.

There was something different in the room but I couldn't put my finger on what it was. There was something different. Very different. I figured that I might as well ask Sherlock when he woke up, even though it was a going to be a while.

Before I left I looked at him. Wondering what was going on inside of that big head of his. How was he taking the news of Mycroft's new endeavor? How he was able to live with himself?


	4. Inadequate motor skills

The Reason I Don't Care

Chapter 4

By the time I got to Mycroft's house I had downed a whole bottle of silver gin.

I was just lying on the well-manicured lawn in front of the house when Mycroft came out. He was dressed in a navy blue rode that had his initials embroidered. He had a cup of tea in his hand.

"Sherlock, are you drunk?", he said sadly as he looked at the empty gin bottle. I didn't answer him. He walked over and laid next to me.

"I'm sorry William", he said quietly, "I didn't realize how much you were trying. I thought that you had just accepted that you are an alcoholic and that you just drank every night. I didn't realize that you had put precautions in place to help you avoid the temptation. For God's sake, you even banned alcohol from your flat because you told John that you don't like what it does to people-", I cut him off.

"How the hell do you know that Mycroft?", I yelled at him and stood up, but almost fell down.

"John", he said hesitatingly as he stood up.

"John! Oh so you told him I am a roaring drunk? Do you have any idea what you have done?! You made me loose the only person I care about! My only friend, John Hamish Watson!", I shouted then tried to punch him. But to my disappointment, my motor skills were failing me and caused me to fall to the side instead.

_I've lost everything,_ I thought to myself, _John. My only friend thinks I am a raging alcoholic by choice. Oh God, what was I going to say to him? How could I face him?_

"Settle down William!", Mycroft said in a hushed shout, "John doesn't know!".

"What?", I asked trying to stand up, limbs, flailing through the air as I tried to stay balanced.

"John knows nothing about your problem with alcohol. Will you let me explain?", he said.

I nodded, as that was all that I could do at the moment to preserve my shirt from getting bile all over it.

"As soon as you left your flat last night I asked John how often you were taking drugs. He told me that you only went to them when a case got difficult. He also told me that he had never seen you take drugs. When you do take drugs you have always left around dark and return sometime the next day while he was at work. Then I proceeded to ask him if has figured out about your thing with alcohol. He said yes. I was surprised and asked him to tell me more and I have told you the rest already. Lucky for you he didn't know the truth", he said.

"Mycroft you are so fortunate that I am not sober, because if I was there is no telling what you what I would do", I growled at him, "Don't you dare ever talk to John about me and alcohol in the same conversation again".

Just then Anthea pulled up in Mycroft's car.

"I have arranged for Anthea to take you home, so that you can keep up your 'druggie charade'. I assume you have you have an adrenaline compound on hand?", he asked

"Of course I do! I can't have John seeing me drunk.", I said as I pulled a test tube out of my right pocket.

"Here take this", he said handing me a packet of packet, "It's seven already you should be home by eight which gives you roughly 6 hours 55minutes and 45 seconds to what the call normal which of course is not-".

"Enough time for all the alcohol to leave my system", I finished.

I was getting dizzy but I got into the car with the help of Anthea anyways. I looked out the window at Mycroft who was recycling the gin bottle. I was craving more gin. My body was wanting to stay in its sedated state. I opened the tube to mix the adrenaline packet in; I mixed it in and downed the continents.

I started to think to myself, _Today is not the day you let yourself go. Oh but one more sip won't hurt you Sherlock. You'll be fine. What's the worst that could happen? John could see you like this. No! I will not take one more sip._

I yawned.

_I won't take one more sip. Why am I feeling tired? Mycroft must have mixed a sedative in with the adrenaline. Great. Now I am going to pass out. At least it will give me some relief from my thoughts and cravings for a few moments. Anyways back to my previous thought: I won't take another sip._

I yawned. My eyelids began to droop.

_I won't take another sip. I won't take another… I won't…_

I passed out.


	5. A Woman's Pleasure

The Reason I Don't Care

Chapter 5

My back was against the wall. It was dark. No, my eyes were closed. I opened my eyes. I was in a hallway not more than 170 meters long. The hallway had no doors, no exits, but it expanded into a circular room. In the center of the room there was a chair with a figure tied to it.

I pulled my gun out of my coat. Well actually, it was John's gun. I pointed the gun at the figure and walked slowly towards the room. I walked through the enterance of the room. I pressed the tip of the gun to the nape of the figure's neck.

"You really don't want to do that Mr. Holmes", the figure said.

It was a woman.

"Who are you ?", I growled.

"You know who I am silly", she said and laughed again.

Irene Adler. She was back. I returned the gun to my pocket and slowly walked around her. My hands behind my back.

"Hello Mrs. Adler", I said.

She was wearing a short black dress that she fit comfortably in. she had a single string of pearls around her thin neck. Her lips we crimson and her hair was up in a loose side bun. Her makeup was dark. I loosened her bands.

"I'm hungry. Let's have dinner", she said as she untied herself.

She got up and walked over to me. I stepped back.

"Why would I want dinner if I'm not hungry?", I said as she pressed herself against me.

"Mr. Holmes…", she said as she slid her hand around my next.

She proceeded to wrap her other hand around my mid back. She drew small circles with her fingers. Up on my neck she brushed her fingers over my sweet spot. I shivered. She drew my head down and kissed me. Her lips felt like a lean cut block of cheese. No, a soft leaf. No, a hedgehog. Frankly, I don't know how to describe her lips. It was an amazing feeling. I kissed her back. She returned with more fury. I flipped her so she was against the wall. I attacked her neck. I grabbed he by the waist. I returned to her mouth. Tongues in knots. Heavily breathing. I picked her up.

"There isn't a man I would rather have right now, Mr. Holmes", she said as she took a deep breath.

I walked over to the chair and sat down. Irene sat on my lap. Moving left to right. Left to right. The she giggled.

"Oh Mr. Holmes", she giggled, "You really have missed me".

She pushed down harder, still moving from side to side. God it felt good. I kissed her. She got up and walked a meter in front of me. Leaving me to sit in the unclasped her pearl necklace and threw it down the hallway. She reached towards her loose bun and pulled a hairpin dagger out. Her hair fell. For some reason he didn't fear her even if she had a hair pin dagger in her left hand. She smiled at him and threw it at the wall.

"Mr. Holmes are you hungry?", she said as she walked back to me and got ack on my lap.

I kissed her deep.

"Famished", I said as I took a deep breath before kissing her again.

"Well then I guess we should have dinner", she said out of breath, while I was kissing her neck.

My hands started to travel over the woman's body, staying clear of her breasts and lower regions. We were on the ground now. I unzipped the back of her dress. My hands going through the zipper opening. I rubbed her back, pulling her closer to me. She straddled me. Oh God. My clothes were still on. She grabbed my wrists and pinned them above my head.

She pulled her black dress off. She was wearing a black bra and black lacey panties.

"Oh God", I said as desperately as I broke my wrists free.

I ripped my shirt off as fast as I possibly could. The Woman repinned my arms and kissed me again.

Then the woman stretched my arms out further. She laid down, my legs splitting her legs. She kissed me again. Then she… Oh my God…


	6. A Strange Deduction

The Reason I Don't Care

Chapter 6

I was walking out of the room just as Sherlock started talking. I walked back in to his room assuing he was talking to me.

"What was the Sher-", I stopped.

He was asleep. Was he talking in his sleep? No, he couldn't e. I had never heard him talk in his sleep before and I had been up too many nights while he was fast asleep. _I must be hearing things_, I thought to myself.

I started walking back out of his room.

"Who are you?", he growled.

"Sherlock… It's me… John…", I said.

"Hello Mrs. Adler", he purred.

I was confused.

_Did he just call me by the name of a dead woman? _

I walked around the side of his bed so that I could see his face. His eyes were shut but his eye lashes were fluttering. He was dreaming.

"I'm not hungry", he said.

He was obviously dreaming about Mrs. Adler. I was quite surprised by the phrase 'I'm not hungry'. That's what he always said when Irene Adler used her only flirtatious line she used on Sherlock.

"Why would I want dinner if I'm not hungry?", he said in his sleep.

He shivered and proceeded to do what only can be described as air kissing.

Sherlock air kissing. Oh bloody hell there was something strange going on. He rolled over and started to breath heavily. Sherlock had untangled himself from the sheets that were once on his bed that were now laying on the floor.

"Famished", he said as he took a deep breath.

He rolled off his bed and on to the ground right on top of the sheets from his bed. He was smiling still. His hands started to levitate a few inches from his own body and move in what seemed like the curve of a body. Oh God, Irene Adler's body. He seemed to be unzipping a dress. Suddenly his hands were thrown back and pinned by some invisible force. Irene Adler, the dead woman.

"Oh God!", he said desperately as he ripped his own shirt clean off.

That was enough for me. I understood what was happening and I didn't want any part in it. I walked out of the room in search of something, anything, to get my mind off of what was happening in the room down the hall.

I kept thinking to myself, _What the bloody hell just happened in there?_

I had an idea but I quickly put it out of my mind because it was absolutely impossible to know or even think about.

Ha! Sherlock showing interest in anyone, male or female. Especially Irene Adler. Ha!

But, Oh God, if he does have feelings for Mr. Adler we are all screwed because she is dead and he doesn't know!

Oh God If He Has Feelings For Her… What The Hell Would Happen…


	7. Sleep Talking Fool

The Reason I Don't Care

Chapter 7

By the time I got up it was five.

"Where were you?", John asked.

"North of St. James place. Why?", I asked.

"Just trying to figure something out", he said and turned around to walk out of the room.

I looked at John. He knew something. I could tell by the way his left hand twitched and by the way that he wasn't yelling at me about doing drugs and being gone all bleeding night.

"John. . .", I said carefully, "What is it?"

I was worried that he had found out about my alcoholism.

"Nothing", He said and walked quickly into the kitchen.

"John. . .", I persisted.

"What the hell do you want Sherlock?!", He said.

"Are you okay?", I was taken aback a little by his sharpness.

He sighed and simply said, "I'm just tired and hungry".

That wasn't the truth but I didn't want to push him.

"Okay. Get your coat. We are going out", I said pulling my own coat over my shoulders.

"Where are we going?", John asked.

"I'll tell you, if you tell me what's bothering you", I said as I walked down stairs.

"You were talking in your sleep", He admitted quietly.

"What was I saying?", I asked hoping that I didn't say anything that he understood.

"You asked who I was and when I said that I was John you called me Mrs. Adler. Then you said, 'I'm not hungry'. Then, 'Why would I want dinner if I am not hungry?'. After that you said, 'famished', out of breath. Then you bleeding rolled out of bed and said, 'Oh God!'. Then you took your shirt off as fast as you could. You were moving your hands through the air. . .", He said and looked me dead in the eye.

"Sherlock. . . Did you. . . Have. . . Mrs. Adler in your dream, Fantasy, whatever it was?", he asked hesitantly.

"No, John. I did not have Mrs. Adler", I said.

I didn't lie. I wasn't quite sure yet, as my dream had ended suddenly. I would return to it later tonight if I could.

"Where are we going Sherlock?", John asked.

"Where ever you want John. Where ever you want", I said to him.

We left and headed to the restaurant. When we got there we had dinner. It was John's favorite restaurant. I didn't bother to ask the name of the restaurant because frankly I couldn't care less. However, I will say they did have some marvelous food.

We talked very little during the meal and when we were finished we rode in a cab home.

When we got home I went straight up to my room and tried to fall asleep. After about half an hour I fell asleep.

I could not get back into the dream about Irene. . .


	8. Curiosity Kills The Cat

The Reason I Don't Care

Chapter 8

"Sherlock", John said.

"Hmm?", I said from the client couch.

"Mycroft called", he said.

"And what did he want?", I said thinking about the adrenaline.

"He said he has something for you", he said with a curious tone and looked his watch.

"Where does he want me to go to pick whatever it is up?", I asked.

"Your Parents' house", he said drinking a sip of tea.

"I'm not going", I said as I picked my mobile up to phone Mycroft.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

Mycroft answered.

"You're coming", he said firmly.

"I am most certainly not", I said sternly.

John was watching me carefully while sipping his tea, trying to hear what Mycroft was saying. I rolled my eyes.

"Sherlock, I can order you to come", Mycroft said.

"No, you really can't Mycroft", I snarled.

"Sherlock, you need to come. We can help you".

"I am not going to rehab!", I screamed into the phone, hung up and then tossed it across the room.

It landed by the mantle.

John just stared at me for a few moments. His cup was raised halfway to his mouth, his mouth was open like he was frozen in time right before he was about to drink a sip of tea.

That is when he said, "Rehab?"

"Forget it", I said as I walked over the coffee table and towards my room.

John just caught up with me when I entered my room.

"Sherlock, why does Mycroft want you in rehab?", he asked.

"I said 'forget it' John!", I yelled.

John took his mobile out of his pocket and dialed Mycroft's number. It wasn't long before Mycroft answered.

"Why does Sherlock need rehab?", he asked.

Mycroft was obviously telling john that my drug addiction was becoming a problem and it was affecting more than just me.

John said thank you to Mycroft then hung up.

"Sherlock what happened last night when you were high?", he asked sadly but sternly.

"Nothing. Mycroft has just become very irritated with my drug addiction."

"Sherlock", he said trying to pressure me.

I jumped on to my bed and covered my head with a pillow.

"Go away John", I said.

I heard him sigh and walk out of the room shutting the door quietly behind him.

_Oh God_, I thought to myself, _I need to get out of here. I need to relax. To calm my mind…Oh God, no. No! No!_

"I am not doing this again. No. Sherlock get your head on straight. You are better than this, not much better, but still, better than this. Sherlock don't do it", I said quietly to myself.

I got out of bed after a few more minutes of trying to convince myself not to leave my bed.

I left my room in search of John. He was in the kitchen making something for dinner.

"I'm going out", I said.

_NO!_, my mind screamed.

"Fine, but I'm calling Mycroft", John said.

"Fine", I said.

"Fine", He said.

"Fine", I said.

"Fine", he said and turned away.

_No. Don't you dare walk out that door._

John had just picked up his mobile phone as I left.

I walked down the two flights of stairs and walked out the door of 221B.

_God, why did John have to be so curious? He was never this curious before I was gone for two year. I mean seriously. Why the hell was he so curious?_

I walked down Baker Street and signaled a cab when I was a mile and a half away. I had one thing on mind and I hated it.

Alcohol…


	9. It's All In Your Head

The Reason I Don't Care

Chapter 9

I had called in sick to work so that I could confront Sherlock.

_What was going on in his head? What was he thinking? What happened?_ I was use to Sherlock being a partial arse but now he being a complete arse. _What changed? Why is Mycroft so interested in Sherlock's addiction?_

I walked into the kitchen just as the clock stuck nine.

I went to the stove and put the kettle on. Then I opened the cupboard to pick out a tea. Lemon? Cinnamon? Green? Raspberry? And… oh, Earl Grey. I grabbed a packet and put it in the new tea pot Sherlock's mother had sent over a few days earlier. After I had put the water in I put the pot and a cup on a tray. I brought the tray into the other room. I sat in my chair looking out the window.

"What's going on Sherlock?", I asked the air.

No one answered.

I looked at the mantelpiece. Sherlock's phone was sitting next to his skull which was lying peacefully on its side. As I looked closer I saw that it was filled with things. I couldn't tell what; just that it had many different things in it.

_What is that?_, I thought as I leaned as far as I could in my chair trying to get a closer look at it without moving from my spot.

After a few moments of uneducated guessing, I got up and walked over and retrieved it before returning to my seat.

I used my index finger to stir the contents. Then I reached in and plucked up the first thing that my fingers brushed against: A nicotine patch. I reached in again and pulled another patch out. As I reached in I kept finding more and more patches. That was surprisingly normal.

Feeling content that all the items in the skull were nicotine patches I turned the skull upside down and shook the remaining items out: a few more patches and a lot of trouble.

Out of the skull half hidden amongst the patches were two items: a box of cigarettes and a box of old fashioned matches like the ones from the case that had to deal with the inexplicable matchbox.

_Why does Sherlock have cigarettes in his skull? What if Sherlock is smoking though? Why wouldn't he tell me and why would he be even?,_ I thought to myself.

I started to feel my face warm up as I became more and more irritated at Sherlock.

I picked myself up out of the chair and started to slowly make my way towards Sherlock's room, my blood boiling hotter and hotter with every step I took.

_What the bloody hell as Sherlock smoking for? What is going on? And why in the hell has he not told me that something is, or was, going on?_

By the time I finally waked into Sherlock's room I was fuming. I looked around.

_What else are you hiding And where would it, they, be?, _I thought.

I looked at his wardrobe and smiled.

"Let's see what else you are hiding from me", I said as I threw the doors open.

That is when more than a dozen cartons of cigarettes fell on top of me. I looked up from the ground into the wardrobe. It was stacked high with cigarette cartons, top to bottom, side to side, front to back, full of cigarettes.

"What the hell is going on?", I shouted, my words echoed through the stale air.

I dug myself from the heap.

My rage towards Sherlock subsiding as I looked at the packages lying at my feet. I reorganized the large rectangles in the wardrobe and made it seem like they had never been discovered.

"Sherlock", I sighed, "What is going on?

I looked over at Sherlock's bed. The covers were all messed up the sheets were half off. That was odd. Sherlock is neat when it comes to that kind of thing. For damn sake he has a bloody system for his socks.

I noticed that there was something shiny poking out from underneath the edge of his pillow. I was black, gold and very familiar. Upon further investigation I came to the realization that it was in fact Irene Adler's mobile phone.

I picked it up and then, after a few seconds of looking at it in wonder, the phone was knocked out of my hand viciously by something… or someone…


End file.
